I Shall Keep this Tuxedo (Something Different at the Men's Club)
by darcymackenzie
Summary: The Doctor and the Detective explore their gender roles while undercover at the Men's Club in this re-writing of a scene from Season 3, Episode 3, "Victor, Victorian".


_**With great respect to the writer of Murdoch Mysteries Season 3 Episode 3 "Victor, Victorian," the last scene where Dr. Ogden says she wants Murdoch to "kiss her like a man" didn't quite sit right with me. I would have liked a little more exploration and play with gender roles between the Doctor and the Detective, especially because Murdoch's character has, I believe, capacity to take on both traditionally masculine and feminine characteristics, and because his relation with the Doctor is anything but typically gendered in the big picture. **_

Something was different at the men's club - Murdoch couldn't put his finger on it, but he could sense it right away. Through a haze of cigar smoke, he surveyed the expensive furnishings, rich upholstery, large oil paintings, and at the groups of men chatting comfortably in groups or reading alone in a private nook.

Men of all ages, shapes and sizes, but all looking rather the same in their black and white evening wearing. Still - something, he felt, was different ...

"Let's go, Constable," said Murdoch to the younger man next to him, and the detective and Constable Crabtree began to casually stroll through the room. They were unlikely to be recognized - neither of them made the pay or had the social standing to spend their evenings in such an exclusive club - but their gender and borrowed suits were their passport to move freely through the space.

The pair reached the far side of the room, discretely looking about. Murdoch shook his head.

"I don't know why Dr. Ogden told us to meet her here! What does this place have to do with the murder of that young woman, who was found dressed as a man, in the Masonic Temple?"

"Beats me if I know," replied Crabtree, who was enjoying the novelty of yet another Toronto location he'd never have imagined entering outside of his adventures with the Detective.

Suddenly a low, light voice whispered into Murdoch's ear, "Got a light?" He turned distractedly and apologized, "No," and turned back to the Constable. The low, light voice whispered again, "Do you have the time?"

Irritable at the distraction, Murdoch turned again to look into the face of a beautiful young man with dark, thick brown hair and a full mustache. The man had high cheek bones, a long, narrow nose, sparking blue eyes and a clever smile. He was taken aback by how beautiful this man was, and felt a stirring in his belly like a fearful thrill. He blinked is deep brown eyes in confusion.

"Dr. Ogden!" whooped the Constable, who, though daily polished in his behaviour by the good influence of the Detective, still sometimes behaved like a street urchin.

"George!" admonished Murdoch, "Be quiet! ... Dr. Ogden?" he said. "Why, Julia ..."

The Doctor laughed spiritedly. "Yes, William, it's me. You told me to learn everything I could about the women's basketball team and find out what they know about that murdered young woman. Well, I followed them here tonight ..."

The Doctor, the Constable and the Detective slowly scanned the smoky room. Suddenly they realized that six or seven of the men in the room seemed younger, and had more gentle features.

"Yes," said the Doctor, "They are all women."

"Good God!" whooped Crabtree again,"It's very hard to tell!"

"GEORGE!" said the Detective, "Keep it down! We are undercover!" Crabtree blushed. "Sorry sir," he said, "I've just never seen anything like it."

"I confess I haven't either," admitted Murdoch.

Murdoch's eyes roamed over the room, but slid quickly back to Julia. He couldn't take his eyes off her while she revealed, in a low-pitched, easy voice, different from her normal cheerful clip, her discovery: that the upper class women enjoyed dressing as men and adventuring into spaces normally closed to them. They were seeking freedom of movement and experienced, she explained.

The Doctor was very close to the Detective, and he realized she was smoking a cigarette, handling it artfully, not quite like a man would, but not exactly like a woman either. She moved her face closer and whispered,

"I do find this delightful, William" and pressed her lips again to the warm, glowing cylinder of the cigarette, sucking in and then blowing smoke a moment later just past his cheek. "I had no idea men's pants could be so comfortable!"

Murdoch swallowed hard. "Well, I hardly recognized you, Julia," he stammered. He couldn't look away from the point where her lips were brushed by her thick mustache. How strange and unfamiliar an image it was to the Detective, who, unmarried and Catholic, had not shared more than a chaste kiss with a woman.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" she said, flirtatiously, blowing smoke into his face again, her eyes twinkling. He noticed she'd put her long fingered hand on his bicep, and he felt again a strange stirring.

"N-no," he stammered again, then shook him self and stepped slightly closer, in command of his senses. "No, Dr. Ogden," he said, confidently with a charming smile. "I quite like it."

Constable Crabtree rolled his eyes and look discretely to his left. "I think I'll go and take some notes on the girls," he said. The Doctor and the Constable made no reply. They were whispering within a cloud of cigarette smoke so thick it was nearly obscuring their faces.

"Julia," said Murdoch, "George has this investigation well under control and we don't want to make any sudden moves and bring attention to the operation. How about you and I find one of these nooks and have a little chat about the case?"

"Delighted!" said the Doctor, with another mischevious smile. They walked sedately over to the farthest, darkest corner of the room. Murdoch noticed that Julia had completely changed her body movements. Although as a pathologist she rarely acted the simpering doll, but rather strode confidently into any murder scene, crouching down comfortably to take samples and asses the body, still Murdoch was taken by the restrained power of her stride. He felt himself flush a little and it took him a moment to realize that it was seeing her long, strong legs in pants. He could see nearly to her mid section. Although the pants were loose-fitting, it was impossible not to get a clearer picture of the strength and command. He had a flashing image, as he so often did, but this time it was not of a murder scene; it was of her legs - his cheeks flamed, and he shook his head.

They took a seat in two wingback chairs, facing towards a bookcase, backs to the crowd. He found himself staring into her open, honest, prettily mustached face.

Without realizing he was doing it, he bit his lip. He wanted to kiss those lips, put his hand to her face. His eye lashes fluttered - he was a confidant man, not afraid to be bold, but the strength of her line of her face and the cut of her suit made him pause. His eyes were like great limpid pools, pausing, wanting her to make love to him first.

She felt no hesitation. Reaching out, she put her palm to his cheek and kissed him with passion. He was lost in the kiss and then pulled back to gaze into the eyes of the beautiful young man who had just kissed him. He felt an increased warmth, not just for Dr Ogden the woman, but for Dr Ogden the man. He want to take this young man, and be taken by him. The Doctor saw the vulnerability and passion in his big eyes, and put her lips to his ear.

"Not here, not now, William," she whispered, and he could feel both her soft lips and coarse mustache on his cheek, and it sent a thrill through his body. "But I shall keep this tuxedo."


End file.
